


The HuggaMug House Hobo

by Maevi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Darcy Lewis, Coffee, Coffee Shops, F/M, Homeless Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, WinterShock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 12:54:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13927545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maevi/pseuds/Maevi
Summary: Darcy has never really been the type to pick up strays, but there's something about the homeless dude across the street from her fave coffee shop that tugs at her heartstrings to the point where she's been buying him food for weeks to make sure he doesn't waste away, (and to maybe hopefully get him to smile every once in awhile.)





	The HuggaMug House Hobo

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer; I own nothing.

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and Darcy was a beany wearing woman on a mission, swerving through the New York crowd on her way to her favorite coffee shop – _The HuggaMug House_.

She’d cringed at the name the first time she’d spotted it, and what she’d seen from the street hadn’t exactly inspired confidence, but her morbid curiousity had won out and she’d gone in to try the most likely over pretentious and over priced coffee. What she’d revieved instead was a revelation, and she’d vowed never to judge a coffee shop by it’s front store cover again.

It was a little hole in the wall indie hipster with a bohemian flare for extra karma (and revenue). But despite it’s nearly over-pretentious vibe, Darcy loved it to bits with it’s ridiculously tasty home baked goods and coffee so perfect that even the Gods would weep over it. It was awesomely close to the tower as well, which only racked up the kudos in Darcy’s mind. The only downside was that Darcy somehow always managed to get stuck in the middle of white collar rush hour, no matter when she went out to fetch the liquid gold. (She’d even gone all Science! and tested going out at different times to see if there was any difference in traffic flow to find the optimal coffee retrieval time, but nada. It was _always_ busy.) But honestly, despite her complaining, she wouldn’t have it any other way – the deliciousness of the goods and nearness to the tower way too good to pass up.

It also happened to be the place where her favorite hobo hung out.

He was usually positioned on the opposite side of the street, at the mouth of an alley way. He was curled up against the wall, worn out baseball cap pulled low over his face, full beard covering the lower half of his face. His clothes were worn out and ratty, although always surprisingly clean, and he had an equally ratty blanket covering the left side of his body at all times. She’d never seen him use his left arm or hand, nor even move it to be honest. Her curiosity had been real (still was), but she’d never asked, obviously, cause she was good people. Keeping her curiosity off her face was slightly harder, but she was doing her best.

Darcy wasn’t entirely sure that having a favorite homeless person was a done thing in the Great Apple. Then again, she’d only lived in tiny town’s before, so maybe it was completely normal. She’d contemplated asking one of her new avenging friends, but then remembered that paranoia was a thing (she was slowly gaining a healthy dose herself, but wasn’t quite at their level yet), and decided against it.

She’d first seen the guy about 4 months ago. She was coming out of the café with her spoils when a break in the crowd had shown piercing blue eyes from across the street, staring directly at her. Addmittedly she had been extremely creeped out then and had quickly skedaddled out of there. SHIELDRA had only recently been exposed and everyone was still on red alert, so anything suspicious looking and out of the ordinary was met with extreme prejudice.  
  
With blue eyes in mind Darcy had finally accepted Natasha’s offer to train her, and had been in the process of learning how to kick ass for a month before daring to go back to her get her favorite coffee.

She’d been desperate for good caffeine not made by her own hands (Stark had all the awesome beans, but sometimes a girl just wants to treat herself without having to make it herself.)

So with a month’s worth of Black Widow training, Darcy had returned to the HuggaMug House, keeping an eye on the shadow at the alleyway across the street.  
Instead of heading back to the Tower Darcy’d sat herself at a window seat to observe blue eyes without hopefully obviously doing any observing.  
When not having his unnerving gaze focused on her, Darcy could concentrate on the rest of his appearance and try to (with her limited experience) assess if the dude was a threat or not.  
  
And honestly he’d looked more like a wet miserable puppy than anything else.  
  
His clothes had looked the same then as now, though obviously less ratty. He’d looked slightly malnourished, face pale and eyes haunted, although still retaining muscle. His shoulders had been practically hiked up to his ears, and he’d kept his arm hidden inside his hoodie, not yet having gained the blanket (she’d given it to him two weeks later, and he’d kind of short circuited at the kind gesture, eyes wide and disbelieving. It’d broken her already fractured heart.)

So her limited assessment had been that while obviously he _could_ probably hurt her if she did something wrong, he didn’t look like HYDRA material.

And that’s when the first urge to feed him had kicked in. Darcy had ended up arguing with herself (as well as her inner Natasha), for a solid fifteen minutes before thinking ‘fudge it’ and buying him the plainest scone and some water. She’d have gotten him something more elaborate, but his starved look told her that anything too sugary or fatty would be, while appreciated, highly unwise and would make a swift reappearance.

So with a paper bag and water bottle in hand, Darcy had crossed the street, making her movements overly obvious to the sitting man. He’d already been staring at her as soon as she’d crossed over to his side, and his eyes had only narrowed the closer she’d gotten. But she prevailed, although very slowly, inching forward. His eyes were pracitcally slits, his whole body tense, when she put the bag and water on the ground in front of him. She’d told him what was in it, babbled on why, and he still hadn’t moved an inch, although he’d slowly started relaxing when it was becoming more and more obvious how much of a non-threat she was. When she’d started toeing bag and bottle closer to him, keeping her body as far away as possible she could’ve sworn amusement and flickered through his eyes.

When she’d shuffled the things as close to him as she’d dared, Darcy had retreated back again, awkwardly saying good bye and started heading back to the Tower. When she’d looked back on last time to see if he’d done anything, she saw him already munching on the scone, a small smile on his lips. Darcy had felt so elated at her success that she vowed to come back in a couple of days and do the exact same thing (if he was still there).

And so the tradition began.

 

***

Finally reaching her destination, Darcy peeked over her shoulder just before heading in through the door to see if he was in his usual spot today. Seeing his shadowed silhoutte, Darcy quirked her lips before entering and standing in line. Bopping her head along to the music – some indie band she’d probably never heard of – she spotted the deal (half off) on blueberry scones and internally did a jig (and maybe a bit externally too).  
  
Her hobo had an extra fondness for the fruit and/or berry pastries, which she’d discovered when she’d finally dared to branch out from plain scones of various different grains. His eyes had lit up at the taste of something different, something sweet, and the pastry had disappeared quicker than she could blink. While his face had been just as expressionless as usual, she’d become in tune enough with him at that point that she could practically see the tail wagging at the new treat. She’d returned the next day, this time with two pastries of varying sweetness, and these two had disappeared just as quickly. Seeing as he had no problems with the pastries, Darcy had felt safe enough with giving him some of the more calorie rich drinks that the café had. And oh boy had that gone down well. The look of bliss on his face would remain with her for the rest of her life.  
  
She usually tried to get him something semi healthy though, certain that he probably didn’t have many opportunities to nurture a well-rounded diet, but also indulged him with his favorite sugary drink (Vanilla Chai, as it turned out. She’d discovered it when his eyes had closed in absolute bliss, something she’d never seen before, and she’d been determined to recreate that feeling in him since then).

Reaching the counter, she ordered four blueberry scones (and a chocolate chunk muffin for her), a vanilla chai, and the newest coffee creation on their menu (she was all for trying new things). After paying the rainbow haired barista, and with her spoils in hand, Darcy made her way out and over to Mr. Hobo, slowing down a bit until he saw her, then giving him a big smile as she got closer.

Darcy was fairly certain that her blue-eyed hobo was a veteran, the way he made sure his back was always against a wall, keeping a wary eye on everyone going into or by his alley. Her uncle Joe had been just as skittish after coming back from Afghanistan, so she kind of knew what to expect and how to act. It’d worked so far either way, and today she’d even gotten an upward quirk of his lips when he saw her coming. In her mind it virtually counted as a beaming smile, and she was totally doing an internal victory dance.

“You’re lucky they had a sale on scones today” Darcy winked at him, handing over the paper bag first, then his drink when he’d put the bag down. Darcy then moved around him, further into the alley, and sat down next to him.

The sitting had begun only a couple of weeks ago, when Darcy had hobbled by with a twisted ankle. The hobo had taken one look at her, then shuffled over, making sure there was plenty blanket on the ground, the stared hard at her telling her to sit down. Natasha was at the time probably already going to kill Darcy for going out on a bum ankle, so Darcy hadn’t felt any apprehension in sitting down to rest it a bit. At one point she’d made the mistake of accidently leaning on him and he’d tensed so hard she thought he was probably going to black out. She’d jumped away immediately, blabbing apologies until he’d rolled his eyes and started to relax again. The only good thing from that situation was that Darcy had a better understanding of why he never used his left arm, and strengthened her veteran theory.  
  
His arm had definitely not felt like an arm, feeling like metal underneath the blanket and hoodie. Darcy was fairly certain that it was a prosthetic, and probably a bum one as well gien his reluctance to use it. She had an underlying desire to have Tony fix him a new one, but curbed the impulse ruthlessly, saving it for maybe some time in the future.

Taking a sip from her own frothy drink (and letting out a deep sigh. Hobo man side eye’d her at that), Darcy then began the next part of their tradition – chattering at him about her week.

“The ducklings have been on a Science! bender for the past couple of weeks, and as my usual sparring partner has been MIA no one’s been there to pull me out from their orbit.” Darcy shared a brief sarcastic look of despair with blue eyes. “BUT finally got all three to bed at around two this morning, AND they were still asleep when I made my way here, so boo yeah I win.” Darcy held her fist out for a fist bump and wasn’t disappointed. He continued looking at her inquiringly though. Probably wanting to hear about her training Darcy thought. He’d seemed particularly pleased when she’d spilled the beans over her lessons in kickassery, and had wanted updates ever since. Or atleast she thought so. Kinda hard to really know what a guy wants when he doesn’t talk and barely moves her face. But Darcy thought she’d become rather well versed in his non expressions, and continued on after taking a bite from her muffin. (Mr. Hobo had already eaten two of his scones.)

“My usual teacher is off helping her other bff, but my new sensei has been just as strict so don’t worry.” She smirked at him, and refrained from patting his arm. The showed him a bruise on her arm. “See? Working hard.” Then she unabashedly flexed said arm, wiggling her eyebrows at him. He snorted at her antics, finishing off his last scone and sipping from his cup.  
  
Pleased that she’d gotten the equivalent of a belly laugh out of him, Darcy followed his example of finishing her muffin. They sipped their beverage in silence, Darcy making the occasional comment on the people walking by, usually in regards to their fashion or hairtsyles, hoping to make him laugh again. Usually she didn’t, but if he stayed relaxed during her whole visit she counted it as a win anyways.

Draining the dregs from her cup, Darcy quieted, absorbing their small bubble of peace. It was a warm day outside, not a cloud in sight, and not anywhere near beany weather (but Darcy had an _Aesthetic_ dammit). Being September, it would cool down pretty soon, and Darcy had begun to worry about how her Hobo would survive the winter. He wouldn’t be able to stay in the alley way and not freeze to death, given that this was New York and prone to blizzards. And while he did seem to have other places to go, Darcy worried if they were enough. He didn’t seem the type to hang out at homeless shelters either, and that if nothing else had decided it for her (and the not so subconscious need to keep him around. He was one of _her people_ now, and she liked to keep them close).

Fingering the piece of paper in her pocket, Darcy gathered all of her Gryffindor courage and took it out.

“So I was thinking, it being the beginning of fall and all, even though it’s warm now it’ll grow cold soon and you probably already have a place to go but I thought if you didn’t you could maybe crash at my extra place” Darcy practically threw the piece of paper at his bewildered face “and my friends will kill me if they find out I gave you my address but I worry and my gut tells me you’re good people and it hasn’t been wrong yet and yeah.” Darcy bit at her thumb, both to keep her from talking more and out of anxiety, watching him stare at the paper in his hand. He practically caressed it with his thumb (and wasn’t that doing things to Darcy that she definitely wasn’t going to think about), then abruptly handed it back to her.

“Oh” Darcy couldn’t help but feel very stupid right now. “Um, sorry I-” Darcy looked up from her hands to see him tapping at his forehead, before pointing at the paper, and then back at his head again. “ _Oh_.”

He’d memorised it. That sweet sweet man.

“That’s smart.” She gave him a thumbs up. “Um, you sure you got it memorised?” She wanted to make sure though, just in case. He only nodded. “And the phone number too? It’s if I’m not home if or when you ever pop by, you know? I mean, you don’t talk much, but if a rando number calls me and I hear nothing but silence on the other end I could probably hazard a guess that it’s you.” He rolled his eyes at her, but nodded anyway.

“Um, so yeah. Head on over whenever you want, or not. Whatever floats your boat and all that jazz. But um, incase you need a place to crash for the winter, I’m your gal. I don’t actually stay there all that often either, so you’d pretty much have free reign.” Probably way too candid with who was practically a stranger, but Gibbs can only wish to have a gut as fool proof as Darcy’s, and her gut was telling her only good things about this man. (Could also be her lady bits talking, but then Natasha can head slap her later for her stupidity if necessary).

She stood up slowly, cursing her aching muscles. “So, um yeah. Gotta go. Make sure the ducklings don’t wreck havoc without me.” She sloppily saluted him in goodbye, then internally cringed at her own awkwardness. A huff from below stopped her form turning around fully, and she looked back down at blue eyes. He was working his jaw, and Darcy got the undeniable feeling that something momentous was about to happen. And boy was she right.

“Thanks doll” He rasped, voice gravelly from disuse. Darcy couldn’t help but beam.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome and thanks for reading!!! This is very unbeta'd, so please excuse any typos or strange grammar.
> 
> I've had this idea in my head for awhile now, and finally got around to writing it (when I should be writing something else, but isn't that usually how it goes?)  
> Right now I'm only planning for this to stay a one-shot, but I could eventually expand upon it if anyone wants me to.
> 
> Either way, cheers!
> 
> Edit: After overwhelming love (like seriously, I DID NOT EXPECT THIS TO BECOME AS POPULAR AS IT HAS), I've obviously decided to expand. When I'll post is uncertain, but it will happen in the near future!


End file.
